Fix You
by 1HandedPirateWithADrinkingProb
Summary: "Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you." Emma Swan is a nurse working on the med-surg floor in her hospital when she meets Killian, a patient recovering from surgery following a traumatic hand injury. With recovery a long way off and a few too many over time shifts, Emma and Killian learn how to heal together. MODERN AU, hospital AU. Eventual M
1. Chapter 1

**So I'm jumping back into the world of MC. "Jumping back in, all you've ever written are one shots?" For OUAT, that's true. BUT, all my tumblr friends (jk, they don't know who I am, but I feel like we should be friends) are writing all these amazing stories and I got the itch. So I'm trying to make this pretty accurate. I'm a student nurse, so it might not all be correct, but whatever I didn't know, I researched. Sorry for any jargon. BP= blood pressure. If you watched House or Grey's, you're used to it. lol. Please review so that I know people actually want to read more of this. Thanks.**

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It's ten in the morning and Emma needs another coffee. Or maybe like three more. But there's no time for coffee right now, because her to do list is currently long enough to stretch into neighboring states. Mr. Johnson in bed seven needs ice chips and caffeine-free Sprite. Mrs. King in bed three needs to get up and void before rounds or Dr. Whale will never send her home. Ms. Brown in bed four needs her blood pressure medication, Mr. Keating in bed five's IV has been going off for 10 minutes, and her nurse assistant needs help transferring bed six into a wheelchair. She's still behind on charting and her bladder has been at capacity for three hours.

Nursing was something that was hard, really hard. Despite its challenges, Emma felt like she was home in her navy blue scrubs. She'd been a nurse for five years on the medical-surgical floor and she still loved it. There's something beautiful in being able to care for someone at their very worst and most vulnerable. Before getting too caught up in her thoughts, she handed off the sprite to her nursing assistant and went to grab a new bag of saline for bed five, promising to catch up with her in fifteen minutes.

She knocked gently on the door before walking in. "Hey, Mr. Keating! Is this thing screaming at you again?" she laughed as she gestured to the irritating machine beeping.

"Emma, I told you, you can call me Ted. And yeah, damn thing won't shut up." He said with a hint of humor coloring his words as he shifted his arm.

"Okay, Ted," she acquiesced giving him a tenative smile, feeling just a _bit_ uncomfortable. "Don't worry, I'll fix it and maybe you can get some rest before lunch time?" She typed a few things into the computer in front of her while she made conversation.

"Well I hope so. It was another rough night last night…I had that ditzy red head nurse again." He grumbled.

"Take it easy on Ariel, Ted. She just graduated and we all start somewhere. She's a great nurse." she said gently. She never quite understood why nurses sometimes tended to eat their young. She's seen several nurses on her floor berate and bully the students and graduates and frankly, it pissed her off. Every one was new once. And while she meant no disrespect to their experience, sometimes the old nurse Mildred had to be double checked on her dosage, because her eyesight was going out.

"Only for you, nurse Emma." He smiled. It wasn't unusal for her to get a little flirtation from the patients, especially the older ones…especially during bed baths. She remembered ranting to her nurse best friend, Mary Margaret, that she's sure that some of these men really are in fact capable of washing their own private areas. She just smiled back and returned to her task at hand.

"You know the drill, Ted. Name and date of birth" She inspected his wristband as she scanned the information into her computer. _Theodore Keating, May 6, 1951_. "Any allergies?" When he affirmed no, she clicked the last box and scanned her bag. Making quick work of connecting the bag she hung it up and disposed of the old one. "Alright, should be good for a few hours. I'll be back here around noon to check your blood sugar and do your insulin, okay?"

"Do you have to do that?" He whined.

"Do you like eating?" She said teasingly, promising to return soon.

Off to the next patient. It went on like this for much of the afternoon. Passing meds, changing dressings, emptying catheters, and of course charting. Dr. Whale came by and discharged one of her patients and she had about twenty minutes to silently celebrate, before she got the news via an email from her nurse manager, Regina. She sat at her computer in the nursing station, nibbling on a half eaten cherry poptart she found unceremoniously wrapped in tissue paper in her desk drawer. She reread the email for the sixth time, still not quite grasping what she was reading. Of freaking course, why should she get any breaks?

Regina passed by the nurses station in one of her classic sensible pantsuits. A purple blouse peeked out from beneath the black blazer. She had a look on her face that warned against anyone approaching her. Emma had never been great at heeding such warnings.

"Regina!" She called out from her chair.

The woman stopped in her tracks, almost steeling herself to turn around. Emma shot up from her chair and started to walk toward her and finally Regina turned and approached the nurses station.

"Miss Swan, surely I don't have to remind you that keeping food at the station is both unsanitary and also not permitted." Regina said with an exasperated sigh. "You need to keep the food in the break room."

Emma shot her a pointed look. The only time she ever went into the break room was for those five blissful moments at the beginning of her shift and again at the end of her shift. Her thirty minute lunch break consisted of walking all the way down to the cafeteria, grabbing a grilled cheese and a piece of fruit, waiting in line to pay for it, then walking back up to the floor eating as she goes.

"I know, I know" Regina replied throwing her hands up to assuage Emma's frustration.. "It's not so long ago that I was in your shoes, Miss Swan. In any case, did you read my email?"

"Uh, yeah. I did. Why does it say that I'm getting a new admit?"

"Because, Miss Swan, you are" She said with a sarcastic smile.

"Clearly. But my point is that my patient load is already pretty heavy with the six patients I have and so a new admit is just, I don't know, a lot. Lauren only has 4 patients, can't she take the new admit?" She asked, knowing it was a long shot.

"What can I say? We're understaffed and overbooked. The ER is full and patients have to go somewhere." Regina sighed and ran her manicured hand through her raven hair. "Besides, if I were you, I might consider it a compliment that you're being chosen over her. It might say something about our trust in your abilities. Have we misplaced that trust, Miss Swan?" She quirked an eyebrow, challengingly.

"Well, no, of course not." Emma interjected. "It's just, I'm _super_ busy today."

"Lauren is on light duty and this patient is definitely not a light duty patient. It's a little involved. I chose the nurse I think will take care of this patient the best."

"Alright. Just remember this when it comes time for my raise, okay?" Emma said letting a smile overcome her face.

It actually felt nice to be appreciated and even to be given additional responsibility. Although, administration had a weird way of showing their appreciation. Extra work and a chocolate chip cookie once a year hardly screamed of their undying gratitude. She had known that they were trying to groom her for hospital administration for quite some time, but she just couldn't give up patient care. She vowed she'd be on the floor until the day she keeled over.

"Oh, how could I forget?" Regina laughed sardonically. "So, do you want to wait for report from PACU or do you want me to fill you in now?"

"Fill me in now." she said immediately. She had cringed thinking of Regina's comments on 'not a light duty patient' and thought maybe she needed as much time as she could to prepare for it.

"Okay. 35 year old male presented by ambulance to ED with traumatic injury to left hand at 0630. Went in for surgery at 0800 and is now in PACU to wake up. Surgery was successful in reattaching the hand, but had complications in reattaching some of the nerves. The site is closed, but of course, make sure you're checking those dressings often. BP is slightly decreased 107/74, oxygen sats at 88%–he's receiving 2 liters per nasal canula. Temperature, heart rate, respirations all within limits. Patient is awake and alert, but not quite oriented yet. They said he's still a little out of it. He's on a cipro drip to prevent infection. He's a full code. High fall risk."

"Great, thanks!" She replied as she dismissed Regina and went to prepare his room.

She always appreciated the way the room looked right after housekeeping left. Neat corners tucked nicely into the bed sheets. She admired the view from the seventh floor overlooking the little suburbs and parks. The autumn leaves looked beautiful with their various hues of orange and red. The wind plucked them from their trees and carried them through the breeze. She spotted little children playing in the park in the distance, their mothers chasing after them when they wander too far away. She imagined the cool breeze blowing her hair as she listened to the symphony of children laughing, leaves rustling, and crickets chirping. She really wished she had more time to just sit and enjoy the view with a nice hot chocolate. Wistfully sighing, she turned and adjusted the thermostat and readied a welcome basket for him.

"Killian Jones." She said under her breath, as she often did when alone. She idly wondered what type of patient he would be. She could generally make it work with anyone, but if she could avoid having one of the rude types that would be freaking great. She tried really hard to connect with all of her patients on some level. She wanted to make sure every one knew that they weren't just a bed number to her. They weren't just bed seven with the COPD or bed five with the poorly controlled diabetes. They were names and faces and stories. They had lives before this moment, things that lead them to her care. They had lives to go back to, families and friends who loved them and made them cards. Her heart both ached and warmed every time she saw those handmade cards with the sloppy handwriting and stick figures littering the white walls of the hospital room. How sweet it must be to be loved so dearly. The hospital can be such a lonely and scary place for some people. She resolved to make it a place where people felt safe. Validated. Heard. Genuinely cared for. She tried to make a difference in whatever way she could. "How about you, Mr. Jones? Will I be able to help you?"

Stealing another moment of calm, she took a deep breath, hugged one of the pillows to her chest as she set up the extra pillows on the blue pleather recliner near the hospital bed and then turned on her heel to make sure all her other patients were set for the next hour or so. She briefed her nursing aide and then asked nurse Lauren to help out in case one of her patients needed something while she was admitting Mr. Jones. It could take a while, especially if he's still loopy.

It was about twenty minutes later when transport brought him up. She came into the room just in time to assist with transferring him from a gurney onto the hospital bed. She hung the IV bag on the appropriate pole and straightened the lines as best she could. As she turned back to introduce herself, she suddenly froze. Regina had certainly not included this in her report. Killian Jones was _hot_. Her cheeks flushed, because it was extremely inappropriate to have such thoughts about her patient who is literally putting his life in her hands.

"Hi, Mr. Jones. My name is Emma Swan. I'm going to be your nurse today. Are you doing okay?" She asked. She wasn't sure how lucid he was. Could he understand her? Did he know where he was? Did he even know he'd had an accident?

"I'm doing a lot better than I was five minutes ago, that's for sure." He said in a low, husky voice with an unmistakeable lilt. _Of fucking course he's British_. Of fucking course. Like he doesn't have enough strikes in the hot column.

"That's good to hear! And why's that?"

"You're absolutely bloody beautiful. We're going to get married!" He replied in a slurred sing song voice. Her face immediately turned red and a few of the other staff members snickered under their breath. He continued muttering about nuptials and their supposed wedding.

"Looks like you've still got some of that anesthesia in your system." She joked half heartedly. She didn't want to take advantage of his altered state and humiliate him like she'd seen done in some viral videos. But she also didn't want to freak him out , so she kept a pleasant smile on her face as she went about the admitting process.

"No, I've not." He argued a little louder than he'd probably intended. "You are a bloody marvel. So gorgeous. Are you an angel?" His eyes seemed to bug out a little as she heard the slur coming into his voice.

"Oh, you're sweet. I bet you say that to all the nurses." She remarked. One of the nursing assistants from PACU huffed.

"Not really, but he's got a lot of pirate lore to tell of." the woman said. Emma was thankful for the distraction.

"Pirate lore? Are you a pirate then?" She smiled.

"Aye. I'm the most fearsome pirate to ever sail the seas." He said, giving her a 'no duh' expression.

"Hmm. What's your pirate name?" She asked thoughtfully, tapping her finger on her chin.

"I reckon I'd make a good Captain Hook" He smiled.

"No curly mustache or perms though? Interesting choice, Hook." She teased. She vaguely thought about the implications of her patient comparing himself to a one handed pirate while being treated for a quite similar hand injury. She didn't want to touch that one with a ten foot pole. Maybe when he was lucid, she could get him to open up and explore those feelings, but certainly not at this point.

"Still devilishly handsome, love." He tried to wink at her, but ended up squinting both eyes. "Betcha don't know 'm really good with a sword" he seemed to be trying to make an innuendo, gesticulating wildly with his uninjured hand, but whatever allure he might have was overshadowed by how hilarious it was when a grown man is when put under heavy anesthesia. He was cute, she caught herself thinking.

"Haha, well okay, Captain Hook. Let's say goodbye to our friends so we can start getting you all checked in, okay?" She laughed, waving the other people off.

"Finally, lass. It's about time." He slurred as he reached down to his shirt for buttons that weren't there. "Argh, what the devil is going on?" He asked as he kept violently grasping at the front of his gown as if buttons would magically appear.

"You're in a hospital gown." She explained helpfully. "Do you know you're in the hospital?"

"Are you quite sure I'm not in heaven?" he quirked an eyebrow and scratched behind his ear.

"Hook, you've got to help me here. Do you know where you are?" She made a point to enunciate very clearly.

"I'm in a hospital" He said quietly.

"That's right. Do you know who I am?"

"You're a nurse. Emma." He replied, saying her name like he was tasting it. It was unfamiliar on his lips. He smacked his lips on the second syllable. He repeated the smacking syllable a few times, apparently amused with the sensation. She tried not to laugh.

"That's me. Do you know your name?"

"Killian Jones."

"Do you know what day it is?" She asked as she began her series of questions. She asked about pain and he'd reported a three, due to the heavy dose of hydrocodone he was on. He answered all of her questions correctly for the most part. She took her penlight and examined his ( _very blue_ ) eyes, mouth, nose and ears finding nothing really amiss. She was, however, quite impressed by his oral hygiene.

"Okay, Mr. Jones" She paused. His face scrunched up. "What? What is it?"

"You should call me Killian. Killian's fine." He said. "I don't really like being called by my surname"

"Oh, okay sure. Killian, I need to listen to your heart, lungs, and abdomen, okay? So I'm going to need to uncover some of your skin. But this is a private room and I'm going to respect your privacy, okay? Is that alright?" She pulled at the red stethoscope she'd draped over her shoulders.

"Love, if you wanted me to defrock, all you had to do was ask." He grinned. "I'm more than willing to oblige."

She shot him a stern look then placed her stethoscope earpieces in her ears and placed the cool metal diaphragm on his chest carefully listening, then moving onto the next place trying to ignore the sensation of running her fingers through his chest hair,

"Sounds good. Can you roll over onto your side for me?" She ran her fingers down his toned back and placed a thumb on each side of his spine at the base of the lungs. He shivered a little at her touch. "Sorry about the cold hands. Take a deep breath for me?" He breathed in and she felt her thumbs move just a little in each direction. "Good job, go ahead and roll back over." She looked and listened to his abdomen to see if the anesthesia had worn off enough to hear anything yet. "Killian, I'm going to touch your abdomen, is that okay? You tell me if it hurts"

"I don't mind one bit love, don't be afraid to you know, really get into it." She snorted at that and pressed down on each of the quadrants of his abdomen, not feeling anything of concern. Other than some very impressive definition in his abs. She mentally shushed this part of her that seemed to be cataloguing his attributes. She was a professional, dammit.

"You're doing a really great job, Killian. I'm almost done." She encouraged him.

"No rush, Swan."

"Tell that to the other patients." She said as she checked pulses. She inspected his injury site closer, noting the weak, but present radial pulse. His skin was a soft pink color juxtaposed to the rest of his really very tan body. He sutures were well approximated and only leaking very little fluid. She wrapped him back up and went back to the hand. Careful not to move it too much, she pinched the skin of the back of his hand and pressed down on the tips of his fingers. They blanched for a few seconds and then turned pink again. She breathed a silent exhale of relief. That was what she wanted. Blood flow. She grabbed his hand and held it for a moment to assess its warmth.

"Holding hands already and we haven't even had a first date. I'd say it's going remarkably well." He smirked in an irritatingly cute way.

She dropped his hand, deciding it was plenty warm. "Oh? I thought we were getting married? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now" He flushed a little in the tips of his ears.

"Offer's'not off the the table" He grinned. His slurring running the words together in a strangely child like way.

"Alright let's get you some of these extra pillows for your arm." She said as she gently lifted his arm and placed the pillows under it. "Make sure you leave this elevated, okay? It'll help you heal faster."

"Aye aye." He nodded.

"Alright Hook, I'm going to get some heparin for you, but do you think you need anything else?"

"Just maybe some pants please? It's not exactly comfortable in this bloody gown." He asked politely in a small voice. His blue eyes looking innocent and so kind. Honestly, if he kept looking at her like this lost little boy, she would do literally anything for him. He was a grown man. A very attractive grown man, her mind instantly corrected her. She resented herself for that thought yet again. It wasn't often that she felt that kind of immediate connection with someone, let alone a patient.

She thought of the clothes pantry in the break room. She'd discovered it after one too many coffee spills. It consisted of donated scrub tops and bottoms for men and women, free to take.

"No problem." She smiled warmly.

She walked out of his room and into the break room to get his things. Taking a moment to breathe deeply, she pondered how completely fucked she was.

 **Please REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

She laid down in her bed, eyes closed yet not asleep. She'd slept fitfully all night, unable to be brought under for long. She rolled over the cool sheets to look at her phone. It lit up and she reflexively screwed her eyes shut. "Fuck!" She said as she scrambled to turn the brightness down. When her eyes adjusted, she noted the time. Five minutes until her alarm. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck" She said, hitting her head down against her pillow in between her frustrated screeches.

 _Oh well_. She lazily and reluctantly rolled over and stumbled into her bathroom. After she had relieved herself, she washed her hands and took in her appearance in the mirror. Her hair had a crease in it leftover from yesterday's ponytail. She fussed with it, carding her fingers through it, brushing it out, tossling it hopelessly. It didn't make a difference. Back into the high pony it went. She shrugged to herself apathetically. Brushing her teeth and dabbing on the bare minimum in makeup to cover her dark circles, she reappraised herself. Satisfied with the result, she dressed in black scrubs and tied her stupidly ugly nursing shoes.

She made it to the morning huddle with five minutes to spare. She took a big gulp of her hospital coffee and listened to an endless stream of announcements. "Remember guys, we really need to be lifting safely. Use a gait belt and a buddy if necessary. This saves your back and keeps our patients safe! Let's make it through the rest of September without any patient falls!" Her friend, Mary Margaret, said as she brought the meeting to a close. It was Mary Margaret's first shift as a charge nurse thanks to her newly acquired bachelors degree.

As the team dispersed, Emma sought out the nurse who would be handing off patients to her. After setting her coffee down at her desk, she made her way over to a tall blonde in light blue scrubs who was restocking the extra large gloves outside his patient rooms. "Hey David! How'd it go last night?" She asked politely.

"It went alright. Thanks for asking Em." He smiled. "I'm assuming you have my patients?"

"Yep. So was it a peaceful night?" She inquired a little _too_ hopefully.

"I wish I could tell you that. Of course Ted was on his call light all night long. If it wasn't the temperature of the room, it was the volume of the TV. He even asked me to find his mints from his bedside drawer." He shook his head incredulously. "The guy will complain about literally anything."

"Oh" Emma laughed. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm honestly relieved to hear that. I thought he only did that to me, because you know, I thought he was a pervy old man."

"Well that may still be...maybe I'm his type too. We are both beautiful blondes." He raised his eyebrows and laughed deeply. "Okay, so other than that, everything was actually pretty quiet. Mr. Jones didn't get much sleep. He was in a lot of pain, of course. And I had to change his IV site last night, he reported a burning, itching sensation. It was in the basilic, I moved it AC." He took a deep breath. "When Dr. Whale rounds, you really should encourage him to order a psych consult. He had a few night terror episodes." Emma's heart clenched in her chest. She schooled her face to be neutral and nodded solemnly.

"Sure, I'll recommend Dr. Hopper. He specializes in PTSD." Emma nodded. "Thanks Dave."

He returned her nod. "You're welcome" he said to her with a smile, although if she had to guess, she'd say he was looking behind her toward Mary Margaret at the charge desk. Their dalliance was not exactly the biggest secret in the hospital. And gossip travels fast between bored nurses.

"Go ahead. She'll be up to go yell at pharmacy for bringing the wrong meds any minute now" She nudged him gently. He looked like he might argue for a second then thought better of it, running off to the raven haired beauty's desk.

She went back to her desk to plan her activities for the day. She had one patient going down to surgery, one that was expected to discharge, and Killian who honestly had a lot going on. She reviewed her orders for the day and prioritized them in her mind. When she'd finished her second cup of coffee, she made her morning rounds. She made sure to do Ted Keating's assessment first, because if he was going to be a pain in the ass all night, she was going to dish it right back. When he griped, she made sure to remind him that the H in hospital _doesn't_ stand for hotel and the RN on her name badge _definitely_ did not stand for refreshments and nap time.

When she made her way down the line to Killian's room, she paused. She truly wished she could give him more time to rest considering his sleepless night. But she was on a schedule and needed to stick to it. Stepping out from the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway and into his room, she entered quietly. The room was dark and bathed in early morning moonlight. It was peaceful for a hospital room.

She stepped softly over to his bedside. He looked peaceful and again she felt a tug at her heart, rejecting the need to wake him. His hair fell into his face and she resisted the desire to push it back for him. She bit her lip and tapped his shoulder. "Killian." she said softly. "Killian, honey, you've got to wake up for me okay?" She repeated, tapping a little harder.

"Whaa?" He answered in a dazed voice. "Whozit?" He slurred again slightly, the sleep still deep in his voice.

"It's me, Killian, Emma." She reminded him gently. "Do you remember where you are?" He shook his head a little more. His hair shook and he went to run his hand through it, but then stopped as if suddenly remembering the bandages. A look that she couldn't decipher between disappointment and despair flashed across his face before he reclaimed it and turned it into a small smile.

"How could I ever forget a lass like you?" He spoke in a tone deeper than his typical speaking voice. "The moon is still out" he said wistfully as he took in his surroundings, no doubt longing for more sleep.

"Yeah, sorry. I've got to see how you're doing now so we can make sure nothing is wrong. I'll let you get some more sleep after breakfast comes and before occupational therapy comes in. Okay?" He looked at her with a tinge of confusion.

"Occupational therapy?" It sounded foreign on his tongue. He chewed the words as if he was trying to ascertain their meaning.

"Yeah, they help you work toward getting back to your daily activities. They'll help you learn to do things with one hand." She said sympathetically but clinically. She was careful to keep the pity out of her voice, knowing all too well how pity just made it all feel worse.

"Oh." He replied evenly.

"I heard you didn't sleep so well." She said passively as she examined his wrist bandages. He didn't answer and she didn't expect him to. He'd open up in his own time. She squeezed his hand in wordless support.

She went on about her assessment activities. Checking his eyes, hearing, and his strength and push-pull abilities then making little notes on a clipboard. After she had finished the physical assessment and gathered his vitals, she turned to look at him more broadly. His jaw was clenched and his unaffected hand was balled into a tight fist.

"Are you in pain, Hook?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern as she knit her arched eyebrows.

"Aye, a bit."

"Can you rate it from zero being no pain to ten being the worst pain imaginable."

"An 8, I think." Her heart clenched again. She nodded and rubbed his upper arm comfortingly.

"I'll see if we can get you bumped up to a stronger drug"

"Love, you don't have to do that. I can manage with this one." He put on a brave face despite the tell tale signs of pain coloring his demeanor. She didn't miss him splinting himself or the microscopic winces on corner of his mouth. "I'm a survivor."

"You _are_ a survivor, but that doesn't mean we have to let you be in so much pain. You'll heal better if you're not in constant pain." She explained patiently. "I have a couple of questions to ask you for the rest of the admission stuff. We didn't want to rush it when you were still a little loopy. Do you want to go ahead and do that now?" She asked cautiously, not wanting to push him too far.

"Aye, I can manage." He nodded brusquely. She held up a finger and popped out of the room for a moment. When she returned, she carried a tiny pill in a clear cup. She scanned his bracelet asking him to verify his name and birth date.

"You were supposed to get this thirty minutes from now but we're in an acceptable window, so..." She explained as she handed him the cup. He popped it back into his mouth and took a sip from the straw she'd proffered.

"You were going to ask me questions, love." He reminded her lowly.

"Uh. Yes. Right" She stuttered awkwardly. She didn't do that. She was the cool and collected nurse. One hundred percent professional all the time. Except, apparently with Killian Jones. "So...what do you do for a living?"

"I own a boat rental company." No wonder he was into the pirate folklore, she thought.

"Here in town?" She asked wondering how she hadn't seen him before. Storybrooke is not a huge place. Probably because she spent her whole life here in the hospital.

"Aye."

"Where do you live?" She looked up at him from her pink clipboard. He smirked.

"Why, Emma, that's a bit forward, don't you think?" Her eyebrows shot up and she started to say something before he interjected. "Don't get me wrong, love, I'm not complaining by any means."

"What _type_ of housing do you live in?" She clarified,

"I have a condo not far from the docks" he retained his smile.

"How many steps does it take for you to get in?"

"Two outside the house, and maybe ten inside the house from the main floor to the upstairs" His eyes were closed and she could see him visualizing walking through his house.

"Is it an old house, does it have electricity or modern utilities?" she asked reading off her list.

"You sure have a lot of questions about my home, love." She blushed at his flirting. Shaking her head, she returned back to her work.

"Who lives with you at the home?"

"No one." He answered curtly without his usual humor in his voice. His face fell flat and it was like he'd slammed the door shutvon her, closed all the windows and locked the deadbolt.

That was weird, she mused. She swallowed thickly and persevered.

"Killian, do you have anyone to help you out at home?" she asked quietly, barely a whisper, as she subconciously inclined toward him.

He started to answer and his voice faltered. "No. I..." he swallowed before continuing. "I don't have anyone."

What was she supposed to say? _I'm sorry_? As if that would change anything for him? What was the right thing to say or do? He was alone. She knew that feeling full well.

"I don't have anyone either." She offered, certain that was the wrong thing to say. But it was all she had.

"Aren't we the pair, then?" He asked a little bitterly. It wasn't directed at her and she didn't take it personally.

"I guess we are..." she took a deep breath. "Do you smoke?" He looked up at her incredulous, but seemingly grateful for her abrupt change in subject.

"Absolutely not." He had a hint of a smile return as she continued into the less dangerous, less scary questions. How often do you exercise? Do you drink regularly? Do you take any illicit substances? Do you have any of the following medical conditions? It was safe. He was safe. She was safe.

A few hours passed before she could check on him again. "Good news, Jones!" She said as she strolled into his room with a tray. His head whipped up as he smelled something wonderful. "Your doctor is moving you up to real food for lunch!" She grinned as she set down his lunch in front of him. He looked up her with a smirk then pulled the top off the tray.

"As appetizing a breakfast as ice chips and applesauce were, this cheeseburger is a welcome sight." He thanked her. An unspoken thank you for giving him a food that didn't require cutlery. He'd ended up with most of the applesauce in his beard as he fumbled with a spoon in his nondominant hand.

"You're welcome!" She returned the sentiment.

"There's more." He said. She cursed him for already being able to read through her.

"Well that's the thing." She said slowly. "The burger may have been a bribe."

"A bribe? Surely you know that I'd be amenable to anything you ask, Swan." Damn that british accent, she cursed. Everything he said sounded like a double entendre. And that was the very last thing she wanted to think of considering her next task.

"Well, your doctor ordered a catheter removal and some blood work." She said as clinically as she possibly could. He groaned. "Technically the catheter removal is a good thing. Less risk of infection and it doesnt hurt a bit to take out." She said in a forced cheery way.

"The blood work?" He asked looking a little nervous as he noticed the empty vials in her hand. Four of them. Her eyebrows quirked and her lips drew up on the corners.

"Don't tell me Captain Hook is afraid of needles." She teased, taking note of his tattoo on his forearm. Milah, it read.

"Of course not." He gruffed. After a beat, he muttered again. "Maybe a little."

"Well, lucky for you. You have a highly competent nurse and you have nothing to be afraid of."

"You're saying I'm in _good hands_?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Knock that off, Hook. I'd hate to slip with my needle...even good nurses have accidents." She threatened with false bravado. It was her turn to waggle her eyebrows. As soon as she did, she decided she was not quite as good at it as he was. She should definitely leave all the waggling up to him.

"Yes, Ma'am." He said, looking up innocently as she wiped his arm with an alcohol pad in small circles gradually moving out.

She stuck the needle in quickly with confident precision and filled her vials within a minute. Pressing gauze to the site, she removed the needle and activated its safe guard. Taping the gauze pad to his skin, she felt him slowly exhale.

"You're done?" He questioned, not wanting to look down.

"With that part. I'm going to remove the catheter once I change my gloves, okay?" _Stay professional, Emma. She reminded herself. Be an adult. Be a good nurse. You're a goddamn nurse. He's your patient. Do your fucking job, Emma._

She removed the ten milliliter syringe from its packaging and came to him. She moved his gown, forcing herself not to make any eye contact with him. She also didn't really want to look down either. It was her job. _Do your fucking job, Emma_ , she told herself. She steeled herself and then looked down. I mean, no penis was really beautiful or attractive when it had a catheter in it. But maybe in another circumstance, she'd definitely be appreciative of this one. _What the fuck, Emma? You're a goddamn nurse. Are you fucking kidding me? You don't have thoughts like that about your patients? You should lose your damn license._ She berated herself and then tried to imagine that this was her 66 year old patient instead. That helped a little.

"Emma, is this going to hurt?" Killian said, a little worried. "I have to admit, I'm rather attached to this particular part of my anatomy." He laughed. She was grateful for his jokes easing the tension that she was sure she could cut through with a scalpel.

She screwed the syringe to the catheter lumen at the bifurcation "No, Killian, it won't at all. She pulled on the plunger and deflated the balloon fully. "Hey Killian?"

"Aye?" His face was apprehentious and he seemed to bounce his eyes from ceiling tile to ceiling tile.

"What's your favorite breed of dog?" She asked, getting a good grip on the tubing.

"Oh, probably a-" She pulled the tube out quickly and painlessly. "Newfoundland. They're just so big and fluffy. I've always liked Peter Pan, so..."

She threw the tubing into the nearby trash. He didn't seem to notice. She chuckled.

"Are you going to do it?" He asked anxiously.

"It's already out, Killian." she laughed. His eyes popped open and he looked down as if he didn't believe her.

"You're a smart one, lass. I didn't even feel it."

"When you've been a nurse as long as I have, you learn the tricks of the trade." She smirked and replaced his gown for him. She emptied the bag and disposed of her gloves, washing her hands at the nearby sink.

"You're a bloody great nurse." He said sincerely.

"And you're not a bad patient." She blushed and deflected.

It was toward the end of her shift and she was, for the first time, kind of dreading leaving. She was enjoying work today. It had absolutely nothing to do with a certain blue eyed patient. Absolutely nothing. She caught up on her charting and started to give her report to David so he could take over. She went through the process of saying good night to all her patients and she allotted a little extra time for Killian.

"Hey Jones." She knocked on the door. He was sitting in the hospital bed, arm propped up on the pillows, and looking very disinterested in the sitcom playing on the television. He didn't strike her as a TV type person, strangely enough. At the sound of her voice, he straightened up and turned toward her.

"Hey" He replied.

"How are you doing here?"

"I've been better" He said gesturing toward his hand.

"How was OT?" She asked, coming to sit by him.

"It was great." He said quickly. Her nurse sensor/ built in lie detector alerted her to his fib. He was acting tough again.

"Hey you know, if we're going to be a good team, you've got to be honest with me. Don't be afraid to tell me the sucky stuff. I can't help you if I don't know what to help with. And Killian, I really want to help." He swallowed tersely, and nodded his head.

"I don't honestly know how it went." He admitted, letting out a long sigh. His face was wrecked and she could feel the waves of stress radiating off of him. "I can't even move my fingers. They're trying to teach me how to do everything with my right hand. It's so frustrated. I feel like a bloody git because I can't even use a spoon properly without making a right mess of myself." she held his hand, rubbing comforting circles onto the back with her thumb.

"That would be very frustrating." she started. "I think you're doing really well. Better than I would do."

"Is that so, Swan?" he looked at her with misty eyes. Tears threatening to spill over.

"It is. You're strong. And it doesn't make you weak to admit you're struggling. It makes you human." She took a deep breath. He needed something more. He needed reassurance built from experience, not just some nurse telling him that things will get better. "When I was a teenager, something happened and I found myself in a hospital in Arizona. I wasn't doing very well. I was angry and hurt. I was confused. I had a really good nurse though. She made me laugh and for a moment, I felt like the white walls weren't crushing me to death. She cried with me through it. And it took a while for me to open up, but eventually I got better. Not just physically, but on the inside too. Healing isn't just your body. It's your mind and your soul too. People don't realize that part, but she did. She's the reason I became a nurse. I wanted to do what she did for me for other people. You obviously have had a trauma and I won't push you. But when you're ready to talk about it, I'm here. Or maybe you can Dr. Hopper. You can trust him."

He let a tear brush over his red rimmed eyes. "And I can trust you." He said it not as a question, but as a statement with conviction.

"Yes. You can trust me." She affirmed with a squeeze. "We will get through this together."

"Aye. Together." He said as he squeezed her hand back.

She took another deep breath. The room was still and thick with emotion. Sharing even a small piece of her story scared her. Inside of her a voice screamed _"Not safe! Not safe!"_ and she had the sudden urge to take off. But he needed her. His walls were down if for a moment. Hers could be down too.

They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes while his tears dried up. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was almost clock out time. "Hook?" she said softly, grazing her fingers over his forearm.

"Emma?" His voice was small and still scared. Underneath all the bravado, he was still just a boy going through a horrible trauma and going through it alone.

"Can you give me your address?" she didn't say anything more. He didn't need her to. He trusted her.

"Aye."

When she clocked out, she walked to her car the long way, letting the tension roll off her back in the brisk September air. The wind slapped across her face unforgivingly, she pulled her scarf higher over her nose as she approached her yellow bug. She pulled out the notepad paper with his address and typed it into the GPS.

This is probably too much of a girlfriend thing to do, but who else would do it for him? Who else does he have?

"Totally fucked" she whispered to herself again for the millionth time since she'd met Killian Jones. She drove through the town, passing the elementary school and little suburb houses. The street had a few curves that she smoothly navigated, taking in the beauty of this side of town, the ocean sparkling in the distance underneath the covering of dusk. Even from here, she could make out the gentle waves and it seemed to ease her ever going mind.

She pulled up to his condo, a small white complex stark against the sea. His was easy to distinguish as it had a distressed ship's wheel as a makeshift wreath on the door. He had planted daisies and lillies in a planter box outside of a light blue shuttered window. He obviously took pride in his humble abode. She approached the door and remembered what he said. The extra key was under the flowerpot with daffodils. She didn't know enough about horticulture to know which ones were the daffodils so she lifted them all up until she found the key. Didn't he know that hiding things under plants and mats was generally advised against? Granted, Storybrooke didn't have much crime, but nevertheless she kept the key with her instead of returning it back to its spot.

When she entered the house, she was impressed. It was all natural light and wide open spaces. His decor was decidedly farmhouse meets nautical and she idly wondered if maybe he watched Fixer Upper a little too much. There _was_ shiplap, after all.

Despite being beautifully decorated, the house lacked many personal effects. She didn't see any picture frames anywhere. It was much like her own apartment before Mary Margaret decided to gift her framed pictures of the two of them to put around. She was decently surprised that there was not a mess to clean up anywhere. No dishes in the sink. The place was in tip top shape. She hadn't met many people who were naturally clean people, with the exception of Mary Margaret. Emma only cleaned as a matter of public health.

He didn't have photographs, but he did have a lot of plants. It seemed he had a bit of a green thumb. It was kind of an adorable quality to have. It would be a shame for all his plants to die while he sat in a hospital bed. So she grabbed a cup from the cupboard, filled it, and went about watering all his plants. She played a game with herself where she tried to name the plants as she went, but soon was reminded how lacking her knowledge was. She gave them nicknames. Spiny one. Big grass one. Leafy one. Purple leafy one. GIANT leafy one. Little tiny Groot tree. When she'd gotten that covered, she washed out the dish and put it back where she found it.

She did her best not to snoop, although she was insanely curious about him and the further she got into his house the more curious she became. She entered his room, noting the big king sized bed despite herself and absolutely refusing to lie down on it-inviting as it was, and found a duffel bag in his closet. It was awkward packing a man's clothes for him, but also kind of a comforting feeling of purpose. Although she blushed when she packed his boxer briefs, laughing as she came across some black ones with skull and bones on the crotch. _Yep_. _Those_ would be making an appearance in her thoughts tonight.

She rummaged around looking for lounge pants and comfortable clothes, neatly placing several pairs of basketball shorts in the bag. She grabbed some of his toiletries for him as well as his slippers and robe. She found his phone and charger on the bedside table and said a silent prayer of gratitude that he hadn't brought the phone with him the day of the accident.

She bit her lip.

It was wrong. She knew it was wrong, but she decided to give herself this one. She swiped the screen of his smart phone, again surprised by the lack of security with this man as it opened right up. Honestly, does he have no sense in protecting his privacy? She went into contacts and typed out her name.

 _Nurse Emma._ She debated on sending a message to herself, but decided to leave the choice up to him. If he wanted to contact her, he would. And she wouldn't take down his phone number unless he wanted her to have it.

She had complete trust in David, but if Ariel was his nurse some night, she wanted to make sure he was taken care of. And she absolutely did not hope that he would text her. Absolutely not. Because that would be _unprofessional_ , she told herself. Good nurses don't interfere in their patients lives. Good nurses don't hijack patients phones and insert themselves into them. But here she was doing just that. Before she could second guess herself, she threw both items into the bag. She perused his bookshelf for entertainment for him. Mostly nonfiction. Yawn. Still she grabbed a few of the more well-loved books and one that she actually knew. She hadn't read Treasure Island since the eighth grade. Deciding she'd maxed out the amount of room in the duffel bag, she forced the zipper shut and threw it over her shoulder.

When she returned to the hospital, she ran right into Regina.

"Oof!" She cried as she staggered back a little. "Oh. Hi, Regina."

"Ms. Swan, am I mistaken or did you clock out two hours ago?" The woman curtly replied, raising her eyebrows.

"I did, but I just have to bring this to someone." If it were possible, Regina's eyebrow arched even further.

"And that someone is?"

"David." She answered quickly. Regina looked at her through narrowed eyes and seemed to determined to call her out. Just then, Mary Margaret -Emma's perpetual savior- cut in.

"It's true. I was supposed to get some things for David, but you know being charge nurse is hard work and I'm slammed here still. Emma graciously decided to run my errand for me." Mary Margaret lied smoothly.

Regina looked back and forth between the two women critically. They were definitely hiding something. But she didn't know what and couldn't prove it. "You're off the hook this time, Emma." she turned to walk away. When she was half way down the corridor she called over her shoulder, "this time!"

Emma turned to face her friend. "Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me, you owe me so big." she said laughing as she poked Emma in the ribs. "Don't think I don't have an inkling about what's going on." Her face turned serious. "Be careful" She warned as she squeezed Emma's arms lovingly.

"Be careful about what? There's nothing going on. He didn't have any of his things and he had no one to bring them to him, so I did it."

"You're a hell of a nurse" David said and he walked up and relieved her of the heavy bag.

"It's nothing. But please make sure he gets it. I brought one of his smaller blankets from home too. I thought maybe it would comfort him." Emma said softly.

"I'll make sure he gets it. No problem." He clapped a hand on her shoulder. She smiled weakly and turned to leave David and Mary Margaret.

When she got into her car, she leaned her head back and sighed. There was nothing going on. Right? Right.

 _Right?_

* * *

 **Wow! I'm so floored by the response to this story both here and on Tumblr. You guys inspired me so much that I wrote this mega chapter that honestly could have gone on another 2000 words easily. But. I digress. So let me know what you think please! REVIEW!**


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